


Mad World

by Queenie18



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Captive, Edom Angst (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Episode: s03e18 The Beast Within, M/M, POV Second Person, Sad Alec Lightwood, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25383208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenie18/pseuds/Queenie18
Summary: “My son is getting desperate.” The voice says, you watch the sun set. “He’s getting too close, isn’t he my pet?”You can’t speak. Have you before?
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 12
Kudos: 37





	Mad World

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by ‘Mad World’ from Donnie Darko

You sit in the chair and you stare at the world that revolves in a constance of chaos and numbness.

You reach up to touch the man standing next to him. 

Your hand goes right through him.

He looks down at you, all pretty golden eyes and brown skin. He’s a god. You are his slave.

“Hello, darling.” He whispers in that soft voice of his.

You preen at the attention.

You open your mouth to say something but it’s zipped shut with a golden zipper, the edges glued to one another like little puzzle pieces. You frown. It hurts.

The man understands. He rubs your hand in comfort. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

You say those words in your head. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.

You drop your hand and stare at the view again.

You want to say it’s misery. You want to scream and cry and mourn. 

But you sit there, glued to the seat with fear and pain. You think your feet are sawn off. Clean. Gone.

Bye bye.

I miss you, you say in your head.

“I miss you too.” The man says out loud.

You look down at your hands. They’re pale, clean and like baby’s hands. Too soft. Too pretty. You don’t deserve those hands. They’re not yours. 

You scramble to pull one of them off, yanking and yanking. There’s a waterfall in your eyes. It leaks and pours till the tsunami is leaving your body in sticky trails.

You want out. You want out.

Can’t live like this, can’t, can’t, can’t.

“Don’t do it, darling.” The man says gently, looking down at you in love. “You don’t want to do that.”

You want to do it. Badly. Madly. 

You slump and your head rolls to your shoulder.

The world is glittering with colours. The sky oozes into the city like it’s dripping through the metal. Drip, drip. Drop, drop.

It’s pretty.

Are you coming home? 

No one answers.

The man is looking at you. His face is blurry, as if you can’t quite make out his features. It’s like he’s here, but not. There’s only burning green eyes and endless soft skin.

You smile. You don’t move.

“I’m here.” He says. “I’m here for you.”

No, no you’re not.

Never.

Never.

Never.

You shake your head.

It lolls to the side.

It’s heavy.

You’re heavy.

The world is heavy.

It’s all just.... heavy.

I love you, you say into the air.

“I love you too.” The man says too.

You think there’s something warm in your stomach. Like fresh food. Like a summer’s day. Like love.

What is love?

Does it hurt?

You decide it hurts.

“Where are you?” The man says and he’s blurrier now.

You blink.

I’m here.

I’m always here.

Where are you? You ask.

The man looks at you in pity. You don’t like that.

He’s gone. He fades between the edges of existence.

There’s only the city. 

You unclench your hands and stare out in the abyss. It’s endless, time, that is. Just the tick tock of the clock and the people who wash away with the motions of seasons. 

Fascinating.

Where is the man?

He’s gone, you decide. He’s gone again.

He’ll be back.

A man is resting on his shoulder. It’s real. Real. What is real?

It’s warm.

“Good boy.” A goading voice says.

It’s horrible.

Familiar.

You nod slowly. The hand stays there.

It’s real, you think. The man isn’t.

The man.

What man?

“My son is getting desperate.” The voice says, you watch the sun set. “He’s getting too close, isn’t he my pet?”

You can’t speak. Have you before?

No.

Yes.

Maybe.

“He can’t find you.” 

You look down. How long have the chains been there? 

They glimmer with red, like tiny flames. You’re hands are so heavy. 

Chains.

Prison.

You gaze at the older man, cat’s eyes staring lazily back.

“This is the price, isn’t it?” The voice says calmly.

Price.

You tilt your head and blink.

Price. Magic. Happiness.

Deal.

You want to smile.

You don’t think you know how to anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. I was practicing my creative writing and this came. I have no idea what it is, I guess it’s open to interpretation.
> 
> Hope you like! <3
> 
> Also this is my first time I’m writing in present tense :)


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